Diary of a Shopkeeper, 4th February 2024

After a week back home, blasted by gales and rain, I’m once again in London for a second session of trade fairs and wine tastings. Down here the sensory assault is less from the natural elements than from over-stimulated humanity. Wheeling my bag from tube station to Airbandb last night, I was – within three minutes – nearly run over by a neon-lit rickshaw blaring out Taylor Swift, surrounded by a swaggering gang of teenagers in furry head-to-foot Tigger outfits, and dazzled by the flashing lights of a revolving platform on which a couple danced while being filmed on their phone by a whizzing robot-arm. I expect that video is going viral on TikTok as I write, with my aghast, overwhelmed, hick-from-the-sticks face gaping in the background.

Ah, that’s the truth. It’s me who’s over stimulated - just by being in central London. Piccadilly Circus is a long way from Broad Street, even with BID’s Festival of Light in full swing. Thank goodness, then, for the solace of a favourite oasis of calm: Bonnington Square, SW8.

Hidden in the middle a triangle of busy roads close to The Oval cricket ground, these Victorian terraces were scheduled for demolition in the 1970s. A grassroots movement of locals and shopkeepers saved the square, and a new generation of residents – many of them squatters – breathed new life into the community. Houses were occupied and restored instead of being empty and decaying. The garden at the heart of the square was replanted with both greenery and sculptures. Shops and cafes sprung up, providing employment, sustenance, and a focus for the community’s activities.

The heart of the square is a tiny deli and café called Italo. In 2004, would-be novelist Charlie Boxer decided on a change of career; ever since he’s been serving up excellent food, words of wisdom, flights of fantasy, and political slogans. All punctuated by snatches of melody on an old fiddle he keeps hanging behind the counter.

There’s some crossover with Kirkness & Gorie in the deli goods: Perello olives, Chocolate Detective birds’ eggs (made by sometime square resident Chantal Coady) and excellent Azevedo Vinho Verde from Portugal. What we don’t do, and Charlie’s does superbly, is serve up a changing daily selection of informal Italianate food. You can sit at the handful of inside tables while customers snake past as they queue for service, or outside at the tables and benches that spread along the pavement in all directions. Being in the deep south, these outdoor tables are popular even in February. Sitting outside for coffee and ribollita might not be such a comfortable experience in Kirkness & Gorie’s square right now!

Today I gazed across at the exuberant greenery of the garden, watching parakeets fluttering and squawking, while eating the best sandwich I’ve ever tasted. The bread was slightly crunchy on the outside, but soft, white, and absorbent inside. The salty pancetta was fried to perfect crispiness. Fennel slices were confited to yielding sweetness. Walnuts provided texture and bitterness, and rocket leaves pepperiness. The whole thing was bound together with a punchy garlic and mustard mayo.

Even better was to be included in the conversation of some of the regulars. (They may have been staff. It’s hard to know sometimes whether folk are hanging about because they work here or just love the place.) There was Primo, testifying about the benefits of the vegan regime he’s been following since the start of the year. There was Dom, speaking with almost religious intensity about the beauties of wisteria. (I’d seen him standing outside earlier, staring up at a bounteous growth clinging to a brick wall.) There was even Rita Keegan, a leading figure of the Black Arts Movement since the 1980s. Just a few weeks ago I had been admiring her work in Tate Britain, now I was in her stately, friendly, presence.

At this point I began to think of all the artists, writers and musicians who wander in and out of Kirkness & Gorie. Sometimes they’re after cheese or wine, sometimes just a blether. And words of wisdom and flights of fantasy are certainly not restricted to arty types. Many of our customers, from every walk of life, open their hearts and minds to us. So maybe what I love most about Italo is that it reminds me of home, of community, of Orkney. That and the best-ever sandwiches.

You can visit Italo’s website here and click through to their Instagram feed which features photographs of various lovely plates of food (including better sandwich photos then mine) as well as community events and meals.

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 8th February 2024. A new diary appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.